About The Book
He
strikes at random. His motive unknown. No one is safe...
Helsingborg police must solve
the unsolveable. A
wave of apparently random homicides is sweeping through their idyllic seaside
town. The murders have no pattern, no order, no reason. The perpetrator is
immune to psychological profiling; forensically untraceable; utterly invulnerable
to modern police techniques.
The body count is growing. But lead investigator Fabian
Risk is distracted by his mission to expose a corrupt colleague, and his boss
Astrid is spiralling back into addiction. As the hunt for the solution becoming
ever more desperate, their tight-knit team begins to unravel...
Motive X is both an explosive,
multi-layered thriller and a fearless exploration of the darkest side of human
nature. To enter Stefan Ahnhem’s world, with its interwoven plotlines and
sprawling cast of characters, is to put yourself in the hands of a master
storyteller.
*Purchase*
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Extract
"2It’s your fault…The sound of the bullet, like an arrow whizzing through the air. A rushing sound preceded not by a bang but rather a vacuum that had been equalized. An innocuous, barely noticeable whoosh, like when you open a new tube of tennis balls.All of this…Matilda, his own daughter, only thirteen years old, who had clapped her hands to her stomach and stared at the dark red stain growing bigger and bigger on her top. Her uncomprehending eyes and ever stickier hands as she collapsed on the white rug.Yours and no one else’s…Everything had happened so horribly fast, yet Fabian Risk could still play the entire course of events frame by frame.His hands, which had finally been able to hold the gun, aim and pull the trigger. The blood that had pumped out through the hole in the perpetrator’s forehead, along with the realization that it was all over. Too late. And finally, the words from his own son, which would haunt him forever.That it was all his fault. His and no one else’s.Nothing could have been more true.The bullet that had taken Matilda’s life had come as a complete surprise, despite all the warnings. He had managed to miss them all and pushed on with his investigation into the identify-theft killers.Now he was sitting here, in the first row, with Theodor on one side and Sonja on the other, dressed in the dark suit he hadn’t worn since a young Danish murder victim, Mette Louise Risgaard, was buried in Lellinge Church two years earlier. This time, it was his own daughter trapped under all the flowers in the coffin that looked too short.But the guilt was the same.His.Next to him, Sonja was crying, and on the other side he could hear Theodor fighting back tears. He, for his part, felt nothing. It was as though the roller coaster of hope and despair he had been on over the past four weeks, sitting by Matilda’s bedside with Sonja, had used up all his feelings.His daughter had been murdered right in front of him, but the only thing he could feel was the stress of not feeling anything. He couldn’t even hear what the priest was saying. The words stubbornly bounced around, blending together despite microphone and speakers.‘You do know this is your fault, don’t you?’The voice was so quiet it was impossible to pinpoint its origin. He turned to Theodor. ‘I’m sorry, what was that?’‘Are you deaf? I said this is your fault!’ Theodor was speaking so loudly the priest faltered.‘Theodor, not now,’ he finally managed. ‘We can talk about it later.’‘What do you mean, later?’ That was Sonja, and now the whole congregation was listening. ‘It’s already too late. Don’t you get it? Our daughter doesn’t exist any more.’ She burst into tears.‘Sonja, please…’ Fabian put his arms around her, but she slapped them away.‘Theo’s right. This is all your fault!’‘Exactly. So don’t try to blame us,’ a third voice piped up behind him.He turned around and saw it was his boss, Astrid Tuvesson, who was sitting together with his colleagues Ingvar Molander, Klippan and Irene Lilja. He was just about to ask her why she was sticking her nose in, but was interrupted by the sound of the organ launching into the next hymn, which made the rest of the congregation stand up and start singing.He didn’t have the energy to do anything but slump in his seat, letting his eyes rove across the people singing around him. Everyone except Molander, who, though he was standing up and moving his lips, was not singing. Rather, he looked like he was talking. Was he saying something to him?Fabian pointed to himself. Molander nodded, leaned forward and whispered in his ear, ‘Drop it.’‘Drop what?’ Fabian didn’t understand.‘You’re never going to prove it anyway.’ Molander stuck his tongue out and pretended to hang himself, then he let out a raucous laugh that was drowned out by the howling feedback of the priest’s microphone.The alarm penetrated deeper and deeper into Fabian’s subconscious. A beeping tinnitus note that eventually coaxed him into opening his eyes and realizing he wasn’t in a church at all, but in the hospital, in the room where he and Sonja had taken turns sitting with Matilda for the past month. The only thing he didn’t recognize was the dirty white curtain hiding the bed where she lay.He could hear voices from the other side and got up out of the armchair, tore back the curtain and saw one of the three nurses pushing and turning the howling machine’s buttons. The other two stood on either side of the bed, checking Matilda’s pulse and eyes.‘What happened?’ he said, but there was no reply. ‘Excuse me, could someone please tell me what the fuck’s going on?’The shrill beeping stopped, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. The three nurses exchanged looks; Fabian tried to gauge whether they had the situation under control.Then Matilda coughed and opened her eyes. His darling daughter, who had been gone for an eternity, finally looked around the room with enquiring eyes. And then tears started trickling down his cheeks. It was as though they had been waiting for this, longing to burst forth.‘Hi, Matilda. How are you feeling?’ one of the nurses said with a warm smile.Matilda looked at them without speaking.‘Matilda, you’re awake.’ Fabian pushed his way to the bed and took her hand. ‘You’re back. Do you understand? You survived.’ He turned to one of the nurses. ‘Right? She’s going to be fine, isn’t she?’‘Absolutely,’ she said, to the nodded agreement of the other two. ‘All her stats look good.’‘Did you hear that, Matilda? Everything looks good.’ He stroked her cheek, but she turned her face away. ‘Matilda, what’s the matter? Didn’t you hear? You’re going to be all right.’Matilda shook her head and looked ready to burst into tears at any moment."
About The Author
STEFAN
AHNHEM is the internationally bestselling author of the Fabian Risk thrillers.
He has worked as a screenwriter on Mankell’s Kurt Wallender series and serves
on the board of the Swedish Writers Guild. He lives in Copenhagen.
Follow Stefan:
Facebook:
@ahnhem.stefan
Twitter: @StefanAhnhem
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